Hello, Disease
by PandaFire McMango
Summary: Collins and the group feel helpless in the face of Angel's sickness...pretty sad fic, but i wote it, so what can i say? chapters will follow, i think, and it's rated T for langauge and such nonsense. yes, there are typos! Angel goes from her to him a bit,


It was bound to happen. Every time something good happened to Collins, every time he thought that nothing could mess his life up, it all came crashing down around him. It never failed. It was a curse.

It started as a few little things. Minor coughs, sleeping in when she usually woke up before six. Looking a tiny bit paler. Nothing much, nothing to worry about. It was just a passing cold. But it got worse. Much worse.

The first time he woke up to the threat was at the Life. The group of seven was crowded at the front desk, waiting patiently for the man in charge to let them in, like he always did. Maureen was the one who made him crack this time, talking loudly, snapping her gum, interrupting his every other word. Finally the poor man rolled his eyes and waved them through. Maureen squealed and blew him a kiss, charging forward to snag her favorite table. Joanne followed, her arm hooked through Mimi's. Roger and Mark sat down, arguing about something or other. It was a few seconds before any of them noticed that Collins and Angel were still by the desk.

Angel was doubled over, her arms wrapped around her abdomen. Her eyes were clenched shut with agony, and her teeth were grinding against each other. Collins hovered over her, one hand gently rubbing her back, muttering hushed, worried words. Everyone stared at them for a minute, including the entering customers and the man at the desk. Then Mimi leapt up and ran to Angel, her boots clicking on the floor. The others sort of half rose from their seats, faces uncertain and frightened.

"No…no, I'm fine, really, both of you, I'm fine," Angel said, struggling to straighten up. But the pain forced her down again, and there was nothing anyone could do. A passing waiter slowed in his walk to the kitchen and stared. Collins glared at him but didn't leave Angel's side.

Finally, Angel was able to stand up and walk to the table, with only minimal help from Collins. She slid wearily into her seat, one hand wiping the sheen of sweat from her brow. Mimi and Collins sat on either side of her, keeping close. The others didn't know what to do. Angel noticed their stares and tried to grin, only managing a sad imitation of her regular smile.

"What, do I have something sticking out of my nose?" No one laughed or smiled. Angel shrugged and glanced at the menu in front of her, trying to pretend that she didn't understand what they were so worried about. Maureen squeezed Joanne's hand under the table, and Roger and Mark exchanged glances. Collins put his hand on Angel's back again. She shrugged it off gently.

"Honey, I'm fine, stop fussing. Just a couple cramps. Who knows, maybe I'm going through a freak sex change. Now, you getting something to drink?" Mimi looked at her lap, and Collins shook his head. No one but Angel had spoken since she sat down.

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The next time something happened was a week and a half later. The bohemians had mostly recovered from Angel's attack, though Collins and Mimi still glanced worriedly at her from time to time. If there were anymore pains, she didn't show it. They felt that the danger was passed.

Mark had suggested going to Central Park earlier, since he wanted some new footage and the day seemed nice. Although the sun wasn't out, it was warm and pleasant, breezes blowing mildly across the city. The others had readily agreed.

They made their way to the square patch of grass that they had claimed as their own. At least Maureen set up a sign made of Popsicle sticks that said, _Lesbian S&M Experimental Shag Ground. Do Not Trespass. _As far as they could tell, it had worked so far. But today the surrounding paths were milling with loud, smelly, irritatingly cheery people, and Roger started complaining a few minutes in. So they headed for the Alice in Wonderland sculpture, a favorite of Angel and Maureen.

As soon as the sculpture came into view, Maureen yelped and ran towards it (paralleling the events of before, no?). She clambered up the side and sat cross-legged on the mushroom, her cheeks ballooning and her eyes closed. Joanne, rolling her eyes, leaned against the side of the statue, smiling as Mimi laughed at Maureen's imitation of a caterpillar. Mark circled them with his camera, muttering under his breath. Roger, Angel, and Collins hung back a little, happily surveying the scene.

Angel was dressed in jeans, an old jacket, and sneakers today. Collins noticed that she was "dressing down" more and more lately. She said it was because her feet were aching from the heels, and she needed a few days to rest them. But if Collins knew one thing about Angel, it was that she _never, ever_ had problems with her heels. _Never_.

Now she stood beside him, her hand entwined with his, smiling as she watched Mimi strike a rather dirty pose with the Cheshire Cat. Collins glanced at her, happy to see her smile. But then he noticed that the smile was slowly getting limped, disappearing from her face as her cheeks began to pale. Angel blinked, shaking her head as though to clear it.

"Angel…?" he said questioningly, turning towards her. "Everything okay?" She tried to nod, but the motion seemed to make her dizzy. She was really pale now, and he felt her grip on his hand loosen.

"I…baby, I think…oh…" Angel suddenly started to weave, and before Collins could do anything, her eyes rolled back into her head and her knees buckled, bringing her crashing to the ground.

"Angel!" The others turned to see Collins fall to his knees beside Angel, who lay sprawled on the ground. Maureen shrieked, and Mark nearly dropped his camera as he rushed with the rest of them to Angel's side. Collins had one arm around her shoulders, pulling her torso up from the cold, hard ground. Mimi supported her head, hands trembling. Joanne massaged her wrist, trying to wake her up while Roger ran to find a pay phone.

It seemed like Angel was unconscious for hours, but it was only about ten or fifteen seconds after she fainted that she blinked and sat up, looking around in a confused way. Collins pulled her closer, his breath coming in terrified gasps. The others looked at her like she was coming back from the dead.

"Whoa…what the hell happened?" Angel shook her head and tried to stand, but Mimi and Collins kept her down. Angel frowned and said, "You guys, I'm fine."

"Angel…you just collapsed for no reason. You're not fine, Roger's calling 911. This isn't—"

"What! Roger, get off the phone and get over here, I'm fine! And Collins, let me get up for god's sake, I'm not a trauma victim." Collins silently helped Angel up, supporting her by her elbow. Mimi got up and silenced Roger, who had uncertainly hung up the pay phone, with a shake of her head. Maureen and Joanne stared at Angel, and Mark looked down at his camera. Angel glared around at all of them.

"C'mon, what's with you all? I just haven't slept that well for a while, I was fucking tired, is that a crime? I'll sit down for a few minutes and I'll be fine. You hear me? Fine." Angel wrenched her arm out of Collins's grasp and tried to stride over to a bench a few yards away. Her ankles gave way on the third step, but she pushed Mimi and Collins and Maureen away with one hand, rising unsteadily and carefully making her way to the bench without falling again. She sat down and crossed her arms, still glaring. But she didn't have enough energy to stay pissed for long, and by the time Collins sat next to her a minute later, she gladly leaned against him and sighed, her face still pale. Everyone, not really knowing what to do, milled around for a little while, then sat down around the bench, on the ground and on each other's laps. No one spoke.

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After that, they started going out less, only convening at the loft and sitting around quietly. No one wanted to risk Angel collapsing or having a coughing fit in a public place where there was no help for her. Everyone itched to go out, everyone longed for the old times of fun and energy and action, But as Angel started getting weaker and weaker and more and more tired, the others glanced at each other again and again and tried to ignore their twisting stomachs. Collins felt like he was sinking into some kind of pit, where all he could see was Angel wasting away.

The subway trips started getting bad. Angel was running fevers now, and sometimes he would shiver so hard and sweat so badly that Collins was afraid he might burst into flames or shake himself to pieces. Many were the times that they sat on the subway, Angel hot with fever, leaning back on Collins clinging to him, Collins wiping at his forehead with a sodden tissue and muttering comforts in his ear. That was all he could do, really. No matter what, his Angel was getting worse, and he was powerless to help her.

And then there was the night, the final night when Collins woke to find the entire bed soaked in sweat and Angel, dripping and burning hot, thrashing around beside him, eyes open yet not really seeing, nonsense words in both English and Spanish spewing from his lips. Collins felt that he was living a nightmare as he picked up his fiery, spasming lover and carried her to the couch, where he removed her sodden shirt (trying to ignore the horrible redness of the skin beneath) laid as many cold, wet compresses as he could on Angel's body, and dialed 911, his hands shaking and the words falling like stones from his lips.

The ambulance ride was fast and nerve-wracking, and Collins could hardly see Angel for the teeming mass of paramedics that surrounded her, let alone hold her hand like he wanted to. Worst of all, as soon as they got to the hospital he was told that he had to wait in the waiting room. He could go into the ER with Angel. Although he argued, the nurse who told him was firm, and as Collins told himself as he went to dial Mark and Roger, hitting her wouldn't solve anything. But he wanted to. He wanted to do anything that would let him stay with his Angel. He loved her, and every moment that she went through this pain was agony for him. As Collins listened to the phone's buzzing ring, as he screamed into the answering machine for them to pick up, as he choked out the garbled words and heard mark's gasp of horror, his mind was on only one thing.

Angel.


End file.
